


Resonance

by lasergirl



Series: Power Generation [9]
Category: CSI: NY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasergirl/pseuds/lasergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="http://scarletts-awry.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://scarletts-awry.livejournal.com/"><b>scarletts_awry</b></a> is having a Yay!Porn!Weekend and this is my submission. This takes place in Power Generation-verse. Follows <a href="http://coelogyne.livejournal.com/28987.html">A City Alive</a>. Post-"Care of this Post".</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://scarletts-awry.livejournal.com/profile)[**scarletts_awry**](http://scarletts-awry.livejournal.com/) is having a Yay!Porn!Weekend and this is my submission. This takes place in Power Generation-verse. Follows [A City Alive](http://coelogyne.livejournal.com/28987.html). Post-"Care of this Post".

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[csi power generation](http://lasergirl.livejournal.com/tag/csi%20power%20generation), [fic](http://lasergirl.livejournal.com/tag/fic)  
  
---|---  
  
_**FIC: Resonance 1/?**_  
**Title:** Resonance  
**Fandom:** CSI: NY  
** Rating:** nothing now, will be M  
**Warnings:** Uhm... porn?  
**Notes:** [](http://scarletts-awry.livejournal.com/profile)[**scarletts_awry**](http://scarletts-awry.livejournal.com/) is having a Yay!Porn!Weekend and this is my submission. This takes place in Power Generation-verse. Follows [A City Alive](http://coelogyne.livejournal.com/28987.html). Post-"Care of this Post".

  
Even before Flack's eyes were open, Danny was hanging around. A habit bred early, in those first three days when no-one knew how the surgery would hold, if the bomb blas had caused head trauma or if the suppressant dosage was calculated properly. Flack was a big boy, but it was all long bones and muscle, and as always, his effects even while unconscious were difficult to predict.

So no-one was really all that sure when he'd wake up, but that didn't stop Danny from stopping by. At first it was voluntary; he was worrying along with the rest of them, with Mac and Stella and Lindsay, and what better way to worry than to share the pain? But after a while, he found himself tracking back to the hospital when he got off work, following his tired feet up to the quiet grey-and-white floor where Flack's room was.

The nurses recognized him after the fourth day, when he snuck in, small and somewhat ashamed, with a colour postcard he wasn't entirely sure was supposed to be in the ICU. When they cleared it, he taped it to the wall under Flack's window so he'd see it when he woke up.

Whenever that was.

And after that, Danny was hooked. Even after double shifts and irrational overtime, he returned to the hospital to keep watch for a few hours before he headed home. He wasn't even sure it was doing any good. Until Flack opened his eyes.

It would be touching to say that he woke up when Danny was there, sitting twitchy and concerned at his bedside, but it was 2:37 pm on a Tuesday, and Danny was working half a city away. But Flack blurred into consciousness seeing the little tokens all around him, and he knew that Danny had been there.

**

"What gave it away?" Danny asked, trying to see cocky and unconcerned, though at the heart he was on edge. Flack gave a weak smile and tilted his head at the tiny grafted cactus sitting in a paper cup on the windowsill.

"Mac's not the kinda guy who'd bring a plant," he said, "Could only be one person."

Danny shrugged and dug his hands in his pockets. It seemed the easiest thing to do with them, since he didn't know where else to put them. "Well, it was at this Chinese florists and they said it'd be good luck."

"Think you mean a money plant," Flack said softly. His energy was low, but having Danny there somehow made his conscious moments that much sweeter. "But I 'preciate the guesture."

Danny grinned, and the admission made him glow inside for a whole day.

**

Flack knew it was time for his medication when he started to go fuzzy around the edges. The MRI machine was in the basement, eleven stories beneath him, but when 2:00 rolled around he started to feel the deep, magnetic bass pull at his navel. In the early days, before his cycle of drugs and pain allowed his to surface, it was all he had to go by. When he felt that heavy pull he knew he was still alive.

The nurse came in at four o'clock precisely, her needle and bottle on a little plastic tray. The hospital was observing the 'no metals' policy, and the daily dose was given by syringe into an IV port in the back of his hand. After the injection, he would count the seconds as the heavy MRI faded away, and when it was gone the only thing he could rely on was Danny, arriving stale and tired from work.

**

Questions? Comments? Feedback always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, but not when you're a CSI and the entire city of New York is calling. Danny slogged in though a rainshower and up to Flack's new room - a nice little two-bed suite with a real toilet and no one in the next cubicle. He shrugged off his jacket and slapped it onto the empty bed, then greeted Flack with a grin.

"Yeah, it's one of those days."

Flack had been gazing out the window most of his conscious day, watching the fat grey raindrops congeal on the windowglass and trickle slowly earthward. It had been two and a half weeks since the bombing, and finally he was starting to feel a little more human. Although, he had to remind himself, in the hospital, 'human' was a relative term.

"What the hell you doing here, Danny? Don't you have some other life?" Flack tried to put up a strong front for his guest, because of all the people that had gathered by his bedside - family, friends and co-workers alike - Danny was the one who had the most persistence. "You'd be proud of me. Pissed in my own bedpan today like a big boy."

Danny never let statements like that faze him, either; another reason to keep him around. He shrugged and flopped into the hard plastic chair drawn up to Flack's bedside.

"So, I hear you're gonna live. That's too bad."

"Yeah," Flack said. "It's gonna take a little more than that to keep me outta the game."

They'd had this discussion, in some form or another, for pretty much the whole time Flack had been awake. It always ended in Danny grinning like he knew something, and Flack keeping that last little inch of smile for himself to use later, when Danny went home and the whole ward was lost and empty.

But he didn't expect Danny to get right to the heart of it so soon.

"Listen," Danny said seriously, as he laced his fingers across one bent knee. "I've been talking to Mac about stuff. Are you okay with what they did to you? I mean, shooting you full of that suppression stuff and everything?"

Flack knew, and he closed his eyes a moment to reflect. "Listen, Danny. I know it seems like a big thing, but what would you rather have? They can put you back together or they can let you die. I'm really not okay with the death part."

"Yeah." It seemed all that time around Mac Taylor had grown Danny a little bit of a conscience. "Well just... don't let them put anything else in you, okay?"

Flack tried not to think about what he knew they'd done. The surgeons had needed to splice his small intestine back together, nevermind about the vein resection. And he hadn't even understood the technical jargon for 'we made your veins stop leaking' that the surgeons had given him. Yeah, that kind of talk was meant for the operation room and not in his bedroom. Right.

"From now on, it's just PT and I swear, they're stepping me back on the suppressants. I'm gonna be okay, Danny, you gotta believe that." Flack said it, but he wasn't sure if the words hit home with Danny. He was never sure, because Danny was such a hotheaded sonofabitch that he was likely to take off like a shot at the first sentence and not stick around for the end of it.

Danny scowled. "When are they gonna send you home?"

Flack shook his head. "I gotta heal up first, what, do you want me walking home holding my guts in a paper bag?"

Yeah, that might have gone too far. Danny made a sour face and scrubbed a hand through his spiky hair. "Jesus, man, that's foul. I was just asking."

"Yeah, well, I don't know." Flack was getting tired, irritated with his perpetual guest. "You know they can't use staples on me in surgery? They used this kind of glue stuff and it's all over in here." He patted the side of his abdomen that was still tender, bruised black and grey from surgery and swathed in gauze. The motion made him wince. "You should see it sometime."

And still, despite that, Danny dug into his shoulder bag and pulled out a couple of half-sized pulp-paper sudoku booklets.

"You like this math stuff," he said, rolling his neck so it cracked. "I dunno. Maybe you can do 'em." He handed them over with a shrug. "Take your mind off things."

Flack couldn't help but notice how he always brought presents. Every time.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, when are they gonna let you outta here?" Danny had made himself right at home over the past week, and now he had his feet up on the rails of Flack's bed. The television bolted to the ceiling was tuned into some fake New York cop show that neither of them were watching.

"A week or two." Flack was propped up in bed, trying not to gag on the remnants of the hospital food while Danny was digging chow mein out of a greasy cardboard container with chopsticks. "Why'd you bring that? It's full of MSG."

"But damn, does it ever taste good." Danny scissored a few strands of bean sprouts and held them out to Flack. "Go on. It's not gonna kill ya."

He was surprised when Flack actually opened his mouth.

**

It should have been a day of celebration, but the July heat stifled everything and wilted Flack's resolve to call Danny up when he got home. Instead, after he locked the door behind him, he shuffled straight to the couch and laid down to watch the shitty daytime soaps. He didn't really expect Danny to drop by after work, well, there was no need now, right? Wasn't Flack all recovered and shit now? Sure, he was a big boy and could take care of himself.

But still, he was glad to wake from the uncomfortable nap and let Danny into his apartment when the doorbell rang because hey, it wasn't like he had anything else planned, was it?

"I was gonna rent a movie but I thought you might wanna eat." Danny hefted the paper bag onto the kitchen counter. After the bland hospital food, Flack's mouth watered in spite of himself.

"You brought chinese? Again?" The wry grin was tired, but definitely Flack.

"Sure, they were all outta exotic insects. You gotta keep your strength up after all!" Danny popped the staples on the bag and started digging into the warm, greasy treasures. "Beef and bean cake, sweet and sour chicken... are you sure you can eat this stuff?"

"God, yes," Flack dug plates out of his cupboards because god, as long as it wasn't spicy, he was all over it.


	4. Chapter 4

Flack couldn't ask Danny what he thought he was doing there. The question didn't seem to have any meaning because both of them, despite what they might believe, somehow relied on that mutual dismissal of the situation. That was it: Danny came by every day after work because he was a nice guy and thought Flack might like a little company or something. And Flack let him in because really, they were just good friends and it was nice to have someone to talk to once in a while. The 'once in a while' had gotten out of control. Danny tended to have that effect on things.

"I was thinking about you this afternoon," Danny said nonchalantly. They were both sitting on Flack's long sofa watching an English detective rerun on tv with no sound. He was very careful not to make eye contact.

Flack bit. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Danny couldn't keep still and that little admission made him fidget. "See, when you were in the hospital I had this talk with Mac about... people like us." He still sounded ashamed to say 'powers' but that was what the last few weeks had shown him: they weren't 'normal' people anymore. "Cause there's this whole double standard and it just gets me, you know?"

"Sure," Flack said noncomittally. This was getting pretty deep for Danny. He didn't like to talk about things like this because it only made him angrier, and when he got angry, he burned things.

"Well, Mac told me that if it'd been me they woulda done the same thing. I never thought about that before. I mean, I don't have to wear a bracelet or anything, but I could still let something on fire by accident." He shrugged. "I guess. If I was hurt bad and couldn't help it."

"You're surprised about that?" Flack rubbed the thin nylon band around his left wrist, where a small metal tag proclaimed his danger to others. "Sometimes the rules aren't just about putting distance between us and them." The brief touch of his fingertip on the tag sent a brief, metallic thrill through him. He'd missed that sensation so much in the hospital.

"Yeah, but they can't say they're treating us like normal and then go around making rules like that, it's not fair!" Danny's hands curled into fists and Flack could imagine the heat between his clenched fingers.

"I don't think anyone said life was gonna be fair," he reminded Danny. Danny scowled at him and flopped back into the sofa cushions.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Danny snapped. He reached for the remote control to turn the sound up, and then the conversation was over.

**

The couch was soft, and had a sag in the middle that pressed the two of them together, shoulder-to-shoulder, if they sat too close. Flack still tired easily, and keeping apart from Danny was taking too much of his attention, so he gave in. Besides, after the sterile chill of the hospital ward, he was happy to have a source of warmth, even if it did talk back to the tv occasionally.

"Look at that! I coulda told you that guy was innocent," Danny muttered. "But they had to wait until after pulling his brother outta that bog before they found the right piece of evidence. Where do they get these stories?"

"Mmm," Flack said drowsily. He was half paying attention to the flickering screen, half given in to the steady heat radiating next to him. "Books. You ever read 'em, Messer?"

"Oh, ha ha," sulked Danny as he wriggled deeper into the sofa, "I'm insulted."

"Don't be," Flack said, rocking with the sofa's waves. He laid his head gently down on Danny's shoulder and waited. The curve of neck and shoulder was just perfect. After a few minutes, Danny sighed.

"Okay, are you sick of me yet, or what? Cause I can go."

Flack grinned against the warm, smokey-scented nook of Danny's neck and said, "Are you blind? Or just stupid?"

Danny bit back another comment, and instead leaned over and brushed his lips against Flack's hairline. The touch said everything that neither of them thought to say. When there were days when nothing seemed to go right, well, they weren't alone. Flack shifted a fraction, twisting around as far as his healing muscles would allow, reaching for Danny's skin with his fingertips. He brushed against a copper rivet on the hip pocket of  
Danny's jeans and tasted the sharp tang against his fingers.

Danny shivered under his touch, trembling like a hound with his tail between his legs. "Okay, maybe stupid?" His lower lip was right there, and with one hand, Flack smoothed away the fear before sealing Danny's protests with a long, quiet kiss.

When he pulled back, Danny's eyes were still closed against the touch, and there was a look on his face, perplexed yet hungry for more. His forehead wrinkled delicately, and his eyes cracked open.

"What did you stop for? I'm not gonna hurt you," he said very softly. A pink blush was rising to his cheekbones and he seemed entirely unaware of it. Flack savoured the hint of mercury from the filling on Danny's back right molar. Yeah, he figured Danny would be like that, restless and sharp and just a little hint of bitterness.

"It's been a while, that's all," Flack breathed. The space between them halved, and disappeared again as Danny came in for the next round. His hand was on Flack's hip, the other bracing against the cushions. Flack leaned in until the ache in his stomach muscles told him to stop. He drew away with a wheeze, pressing instinctively at the weakened spot below his ribs.

Immediately, Danny fluttered. "I didn't hurt you, did I? You'd tell me, right?" And Flack had to give him an easy grin and a shake of his head.

"If you're standing on my foot and we're trying to dance, I might give you a hint, he warned jovially, "Just take it easy and mind the bandages."

So Danny took it to heart, and manouvered Flack back against the arm of the sofa where he could lean easily, and proceeded to track his way up the long body towards the hollow of Flack's throat. Flack gurgled when Danny reached it and darted in with his little, sharp pink tongue.

Even with his mouth busy, Danny seemed to find room to talk. "I've been thinking about this all week," he confessed, "I couldn't... I didn't know what you wanted from me."

Flack squirmed beneath him, the proximity to Danny's hipbones a shrinking distance, and where their bodies touched heat flared like sunspots. He grunted, trying to control his voice. "I didn't want anything," it was getting harder to think straight and Flack closed his eyes in concentration. "You don't owe me anything."

"Not yet you don't." Danny's hands were at the waistband of Flack's beat-up sweats, and where the colder air leaked in, it raised goosebumps. "Can you handle this? I don't wanna break you or anything."

"Oh God," Flack's fingers gripped tightly, laced into Danny's belt loops, in a handful of his shirttails. "Has anyone said you talk too much?" His sweatpants slid down over his sharp hipbones and in a moment Danny crowed in self-satisfaction.

"I thought you'd be glad for this." His breath was warm on Flack's rising cock, and then he bent his head and took it in his mouth. Under Danny's weight, Flack twitched his hips and a sort of moan escaped him. He could feel Danny grin around him.

It was the kind of thing Flack never supposed would happen to him, the sort of thing he'd always figured was reserved for johns and clubbers and - "Christ, Danny, that's too much!" he gasped, grabbing at anything he could reach. The sofa cushions cradled him, pushed him into Danny's mouth, and even when Flack felt the stabbing ache in his side, like a stitch left from running long-distance, it didn't stop him. He couldn't help it; his hips jerked and he stifled a squeak and a cry and came into the searing heat of Danny's mouth.

There was a moment when all that happened was the rise and fall of his chest, and then Flack said "Holy shit," and opened his eyes.

Danny was leaning over him with an intense look of concern on his face. "Are you alright? Jesus, Don, I didn't mean to hurt you or anything. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." The movement was habitual, Flack pressed his hand against his side as he readjusted his position on the couch. "I just never... not like that."

Danny ducked his head and the brief flash of teeth showed he was grinning, proud of himself for finally bringing Flack to a place he'd never been. "Hey, well, you learn tricks here and there, you know?"

Flack nodded and traced Danny's throat with two fingers. There was a tiny silver cross on a chain, tucked into the neck of his singlet, and the sting of it on his fingers made him quiver. "Maybe I could..." he trailed off. What was he even trying to say? And this was Danny Messer! What in the world had compelled him to... "Thanks for being here, Danny. You don't know what it means."

Danny gave a satisfied smirk and wedged himself into the scant inches between Flack's narrow body and the sofa-back. He rested his chin on a convenient shoulder. "It was nothing."

"No, you don't understand." Flack coughed around the sudden frog in his throat. "Uh. My mother came and yelled at me a couple of days after they moved me from the ICU, you know that? My father, he won't even talk to me on the phone. I always thought they were more open-minded than that, but... I'm the first in my family. We never had a power before."

The flash, quick and sharp, was of Flack's family tree, a limb lopped off and bleeding sap, lying on the ground in a pile of dying leaves. Danny bit his lip. "I had an aunt once. But nothing we ever talked about. I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's not your fault," Flack shook his head against the couch arm and his dark hair flopped over one eyebrow. "I'm just saying. You never know, do you."

"You think this might have been different?" Danny raised himself on one elbow and looked at Flack quizzically. "If you were just some shmuck with a badge and a gun?"

Flack shrugged. "I dunno. Might have been easier." He sighed, and his arm came to rest along the line of Danny's shoulder.

"That's not what I heard from the doctors at the hospital," Danny mused. He didn't raise his gaze. "You know what they told me? If you hadn't have - I don't know what they called it, some kind of unconscious knee-jerk reaction? You did this thing with your powers - you woulda been full of steel shrapnel and probably woulda been cut up much worse than you were. You know that everything they pulled outta your gut was either plastic or glass?"

"And cement," Flack reminded him. The doctor had told him that once, when he was still under suppressants and full of morphine, so there was no doubt as to why the memory was a little fuzzy.

"And Mac's shoelace. But if you had been some regular joe, you probably would have died right there." Danny shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? They're not afraid of you because you - because we, us - are different. It's because we're stronger! Because we aren't afraid of them!"

Flack said wryly, "Does this have anything to do with what just happened, or have you been thinking about this the whole time?"

Danny blushed, "Oh fuck you, Don, you know what I mean. Don't be such an asshole about it."

"Don't worry," Flack pulled him down and stole another mercury-flavoured kiss from his lips to shut him up, "I know exactly what you mean."


	5. Chapter 5

It ended up that Danny stayed the night. Well, he couldn't go home because Flack needed him, and Danny wasn't really the kind of guy to turn down a friend in need, was he? And there was only the one bed... they got over that hurdle pretty fast when Flack dug in the top drawer of his dresser for an extra pair of pyjama pants and hit Danny in the chest with them, a burst of printed cotton and fabric softener.

"You?" Danny held them up at his waist and the ankles flopped to the floor. "I like the cowboy print. It's an homage to the myth of the American Frontier."

Flack shook his head and went into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth. "You know," he said over a mouthful of mint foam, "I coulda sent you home the moment you showed up."

"Sure, even though I brought food." Danny rolled up the cuffs on his pants to ankle-length and they swam on him. He looked like someone's younger brother trying to look like his elder. "Remind me next time I get a sentimental bone in my body that you don't appreciate that sort of thing."

"Oh, well I can't say that," Flack spat into the sink and wiped a dab of froth from the corner of his mouth. "It's nice to have company over. It's been sort of a wreck... lately." The last word hung lamely, and they both knew what it meant.

Danny had been lucky when his family found out about his power. It was a shrug and jerk of the chin, whaddya gonna do 'bout it? It was still a fraction better than having an older brother still running with Tanglewood when the indiscretions of adolescence had passed.

But Flack's parents... how horrible was that? When your son was nearly killed - and not just killed, it was a goddamn explosion that totalled a building - and the best you could do was show up at his bedside and squawk at him. For what? Being something he couldn't help? Danny scowled and turned away from the bathroom.

"I just didn't want you to be left alone," he mumbled. Between his fingers, there was a faint flicker of blue flame. He looked at his hands, turned them over and opened them so the fire sat cupped in his palms.

He felt Flack come up behind him, long arms snaking around his waist. Flack gave a little noise of appreciation. "I don't think I've seen you do that before," he said softly. His mouth was inches away from Danny's ear, and the scent of mint wavered between them.

Danny shrugged. "The City of New York doesn't like its officers to publically display their abilities. Unless it's shooting bad guys in the head. You know that." He'd always had pretty good control of it, because being a show-off meant you had to have a little aptitude to start with. The flames died down on his palms until only one fingertip was lit. He blew gently on the tip to extinguish it, and it went out in a little breath of smoke.

Flack said, "Come to bed. There's something I want to show you."


	6. Chapter 6

Danny's arms were trembling when he laid down, the hollow of his back arched against the mattress. Flack leaned over him, still mindful of his side, and tasted the salt off his lips.

"You don't owe me a thing," Danny said. There was a blush burning on his cheeks that he tried to ignore. "Seriously."

"Believe me," Flack breathed as he followed the line of Danny's throat down his chest. "You have no idea how much I do."

And Danny was a talker. Really, what else had he expected, from everything that had already happened? When Flack pinned him down on the mattress, Danny choked on his tongue and bit back a cry. "You sure you're okay to do this?"

"Don't worry," Flack hooked his fingers into the top buttons of Danny's shirt and began to tug at them. "There's nothing I want more." And then he went silent, as he bowed his head to follow the tense line of Danny's breastbone, the swell of the ribcage. At the small divot of Danny's navel he paused, sweeping his tongue over the pale flesh and enjoying the shivers it elicited.

Danny squirmed under the attention, and under the strong fingers than held him down. Flack paused a moment, breathing over the jut of Danny's ribcage where it sloped into flat stomach and further, into cowboy cotton print. His fingers left little red sparrow-pecks against the hipbone.

"You gonna hang around there all day?" Danny twitched his hips, and the erection that was growing prominent under the pyjama pants moved with him. Flack grinned.

"Hold on there, hotshot." He reached to the bedside table where a glass of water stood, half-full. Or was it half-empty? He trawled his fingers through it and drew them out with silver droplet hanging on the ends of his nails. Danny froze.

The silver-tipped fingers trailed down, hovering over the flat, quivering belly. A drop fell from the index finger, a bead of liquid quartz. It nearly sizzled when it fell, running over the lowest rib and into the hollow near Danny's navel.

Danny held his breath until he thought he'd black out. And then the second droplet fell, sparkling through the air to fall against his skin with the briefest kiss. As it rolled to follow the first, Danny couldn't help himself. A shiver ran through his whole body. He could see Flack grin above him.

"I thin you'd get a kick out of this," Flack said, as he reached back over to the nightstand. Instead of wetting his fingers again, he clicked the light off, and the two of them were plunged into sudden darkness. "Now look."

Dany craned his neck against the pillows as Flack ran his moistened fingers in a ladder-trail down his abdomen. Where his touch lingered, there was a muted glow, the way UV light shone in a dark room. Danny thought he'd almost imagined it, but no, with the faint light came the very briefest sensation on his skin, the thrill of excited nerve-endings.

Flack returned to the water glass for another handful, and this time, the glow was definitely visible; electric blue, painted in swaths across Danny's ribcage, dipping low to the junction of pyjama pants and hips. When Flack teased the elastic waist away, the sensation was electric. Danny could hardly contain the profusion of curses that rose to his lips.

He'd never thought before that electrocution could have been such a turn-on, yet here he was. Flack freed him from the pyjama pants and continued painting the electric slashes across bare skin; the glow flickered along each tiny hair, on each wrinkle and scar. Where his hands did not touch, his lips met and moistened with kisses, until Danny's torso was ablaze in a ring of blue fire.

And then, that was when Flack bent and took Danny into his mouth, the glow spread, catching the faint sweat-sheen on Flack's skin, and Danny buckled under him and tried not to use his voice, and it was in that exquisite position, with the aurora flare around the both of them that Danny mirrored the flame with bright gold and orange across his knuckles. He flared, the sudden light throwing strange shadows on the far wall, but Flack didn't deviate from his task. When Danny's hands curled into fists, and the pressure of his fingers seared tiny burn-marks into Flack's t-shirt it was almost enough, and when Flack gave that last, perfect stroke of his tongue and Danny came, the colours blended into a rainbow of fire.

And, in the darkness and silence of the room, Danny let out a 'whuff' of breath and clutched at Flack's arm like it was the last thing on earth.

"You know, any longer and I woulda set the sheets on fire," he said. Flack came down on his mouth to shut him up, stopping the gap with his tongue like it was a trickle of water. "Mmph."

Flack slid his fingers between his mouth and Danny's, sealing the silence between them with the palm of his hand. "Not now, Messer, okay?" And visible in the darkened room was the glint of humour in his eyes. "Don't spoil it."


End file.
